Arabian Pleasure
by Melfina61
Summary: Let the night take you to a place where one denies his heart's desire, and the other, craves for the love that he will not allow.
1. Lyrics

**Arabian Pleasure:**

**By: Melfina61**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the G/W characters. I don't own the show, or anything else to do with the show. But I do own some of the original characters I've created in this story, I do own this story and the ideas behind this story.  ****

**A/N:** Hey you guys….just to let you know this is rated R for a reason. Scenes in future chapters will not be suitable for those under 17 years old so if you are 17 years old and under make sue that if your parents find out what you are reading that it was your idea and not our  (people who write R rated stores) fault for making you guys read this. So just do us all a favor and don't read it. For the rest of you this chapter only consists of the lyrics to the song "Desert Rose". This story is in part a songfic and is the inspiration of my story. So enjoy.

**Sting Lyrics**

**Desert Rose Lyrics**

  
I dream of rain  
I dream of gardens in the desert sand  
I wake in vain  
I dream of love as time runs through my hand  
  
I dream of fire   
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die  
And near the flames  
The shadows play in the shape of the man's desire  
  
This desert rose  
Whose shadow bears the secret promise  
This desert flower  
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this  
  
And now she turns   
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams  
This fire burns  
I realize that nothing's as it seems  
  
I dream of rain  
I dream of gardens in the desert sand  
I wake in vain  
I dream of love as time runs through my hand  
  
I dream of rain  
I lift my gaze to empty skies above  
I close my eyes   
The rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love  
  
I dream of rain  
I dream of gardens in the desert sand  
I wake in vain  
I dream of love as time runs through my hand  
  
Sweet desert rose  
Whose shadow bears the secret promise  
This desert flower  
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this  
  
Sweet desert rose  
This memory of hidden hearts and souls  
This desert flower   
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love


	2. Prologue

**Arabian Pleasure:**

**By: Melfina61**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the G/W characters. I don't own the show, or anything else to do with the show. But I do own some of the original characters I've created in this story, I do own this story and the ideas behind this story. 

**A/N:** Hey all of you. It's me again. I haven't been on in a long while. This story you are about to read is a repost of my first fanfiction that was taken out do to the graphic nature. But since there are a number of stories out there far worse than mine I do believe that I can repost it. So for all of you who remember me and my story and want to read it again here it is. There are some changes, just to warn you all. And for all those who are new…..welcome to plentiful nights of Arabian Pleasure. ^^

**~Prologue~**

            " Baba, you can't tell me to do this – not now. I can't marry now baba!" Looking closely at his daughter, Samira, Abdul could see the plea in her dark teary eyes. He was aching to hug his little habiba and comfort her like she used to when she was a little girl, crying for her baba to take away the bad dreams. But she was not his little habiba anymore; she had grown into a beautiful young girl. Her long black hair ascended all the way down to her mid waist, her big dark eyes were full of newfound wisdom, and of course at this point, sadness. Her body was now going through the stages of womanhood, more so than he would like to admit. At times he very much wished he could lock her in her room and keep her away from all the men of the world forever, for she was too beautiful, too sweet and kind and no man in the world deserved her. But it was his duty to see her married to an exceptional young Arabian man and he did have one in mind, in fact it was in the process of coming to be. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his habiba, smiled and tried again to convince her,

            "Samira you know this is our custom, you knew that one day I would find you a good husband, I have told you that since the day you were able to understand what our custom and religion permits us to do. Come now habiba, it won't be too bad, he is a very good young man and he will give you a good life."

            "But baba, I don't want to marry someone that I don't know, that I don't love. I want it to be like – like how it was with you and…" Chocking back on a few tears, she remembered her dearest mother who died when she was only six years old. But she remembered her well. It was quite often said that she was the spiting image of her mother. She remembered the beautiful story of how her father saw her mother for the first time and vowed that day that he would have no other but her, for she captured his heart and he had captured hers as well. And that's how she wanted to meet her future husband, and not like this. What if she didn't even like him? "Please baba," she whispered, "I don't want to marry now." Embracing her father, she continued to plead with him but he would not submit, no matter how much he would love to, it just simply had to be done.

            "I'm sorry Samira but it is already arranged. We will leave tomorrow and you will meet your future husband."

            "But baba!" frustrated now by her uncooperativeness, he could no longer hold his temper,

            "Not buts Samira! You will marry the man I have chosen for you and that is final!" Abdul stormed out of her room, leaving Samira no room for further objections. Samira slumped down onto her bed and made herself a promise, that married or not married, she will never love a man that she doesn't choose to love. And if this mystery man is not the one she loves, she would be forced to spend forever as a prisoner in a loveless marriage.

****

            "Quatre, it's almost time for you to meet your future wife. Are you ready?" No, Quatre was not ready. He didn't really want to meet her; he didn't even want another wife. Looking at the small picture frame where he and Dorothy stood in a warm embrace, he let out a small sigh. Her took the picture and looked at her, asking himself for the thousandth time why she had left him. The tortured memory of how she had died was still embedded in the center of his memory. 

**~Flashback~**

            Dorothy stood at the edge of the cliff where she was being held at gunpoint, by a man trying to claim the ransom he requested from Quatre. He looked at Dorothy who hid her fear from the criminal. She merely smiled at him, but Quatre could tell in her eyes, that she was terrified. But her instincts willed her to innocently provoke the criminal. 

            "You fool, you honestly believe that my husband will give you all that money. He doesn't even care about what happens to me. Haha….how could you be so stupid?" Dorothy caught Quatre's eye, and he finally understood. She was distracting the man. Slowly Quatre walked closer and closer behind the S.O.B and he was almost close enough to grab him from behind, but the man caught on and soon they both were in a struggle to get the gun. The struggle didn't last very long as the man pulled the trigger in his attempt to get it away from Quatre. It was as if time went in slow motion, showing Quatre every tortured second as the bullet exploded from the gun and into Dorothy. Quatre pulled Dorothy into his arms as the man stood motionless behind him. She looked at Quatre, unable to speak at all she smiled at her husband before the darkness of death took her. For what seemed like an eternity, Quatre held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth until fury took over. His military instinct took over and after setting Dorothy down, Quatre stormed to the man that killed her, took the gun from his hands and shot him dead with no mercy.

**~End of Flashback~**

            Setting the picture back down on his desk, he made his decision. He will marry this girl as custom permits, but this time he will not be open-minded as he was with Dorothy. His new wife will follow all of the traditional customs without complaint, he'd see to it. If that was the wish of his advisors and to those who didn't approve of his first marriage, because of his modern ways and Dorothy's free spirit, then it shall be done. He took one last glance at the photo and turned to his manservant, Mohammad, whim he'd known since they were children, and answered,

            "Yes, I'm ready, let's go and meet my future wife shall we?" Quatre knew that this time, everything will be different, he was no longer the kind, good-hearted man he was once believed to be, that man died with his wife a long time ago. 

**~TO BE CONTINUED~**

**Note:** So what do you all think? Good so far I hope. ^^ Please review and let me know hope you all are feeling and for all those people who've read it before…there will be changes so if you want to read these chapters again….great!! ^^


	3. Last Minute Arrangements

**Arabian Pleasure:**

**By: Melfina61**

**Disclaimer:**check out the lyrics chapter and the prologue.

**A/N:**Hey you guys. For all those who took the time to read the prologue, thank you all so much. I would really like some reviews however, just let me know what you like or don't like. Easy on any flaming though ok.

**~Chapter 1~**

            It was such a beautiful day. The sun was up shining and smiling upon the lands below. The marketplace was full of busy people trying to buy and sell whatever, this glorious day had to offer. Music was flying from the homes of families to the ears of the diverse people passing thorough the market. It was indeed a glorious day, but not nor Samira. All she could see in front of her was the prison that awaited her in the future to come. A future with a husband she did not know nor love for that matter. What had she done for Allah to give her such punishment? Was it punishment in his eyes? Well it certainly was in hers. She had to figure out a plan to get out of this situation…but what? Praying silently to Allah for protecting and guidance, she looked at her father standing next to her. He hadn't converse with her since the entire day, and she hated having her father this way.

            Sighing she straightened her veil and looked forward as the doors to the Rebarba Winner's home opened and a nice looking manservant, whom introduced himself as Mohammed, showed them in. What a home it was! More like a palace actually. The walls were beautifully decorated with a nice camel colour and magnificent paintings of ancient Arabia hung gracefully along the never-ending stairwell. A grand chandelier hung in the middle of the lounge, creating the illusion of stars sparkling throughout the entire palace of a home. On the floor were beautiful Persian rungs, and pillars standing at each opening. This was one beautiful home, Samira thought, a home that she will soon live in. Mohammad called for a manservant to take Samira to a little sitting room while Abdul and her future husband discuss the upcoming event in the study.

* * *

  


            Sitting in the study, Quatre looked at his future father in law as he discussed the conditions of their marriage, it was hard for him to believe it himself, but he had to go through with this marriage no matter what his feelings suggested. Besides, he needed someone to run the house while he was away on business. Most of all, he wouldn't mind having someone to warm his bed at nights when he was home. Allah. The 'old' Quatre wouldn't even think of such things in that way, but this wasn't the old Quatre.

            "Well, I hope to Allah that you are right about your daughter. I need someone who can run my home, especially while I'm away, who is a good mother, if we do have children and of course who upholds to our traditional ways. Can you promise me that?" Quatre asked Abdul in a business-like manner. Which was ironic, since this the biggest business deal he ever made in his entire life.

            "Yes of course, Allah blessed me with such a daughter and you will be content. She will be a good wife to you, providing that you will be a good husband." Smiling at Quatre, Abdul patting him on the back. "You are a good man Quatre, I know that in time my daughter will see it as well, you will make her happy and that makes me happy." Interesting, Quatre thought, so his future wife was not happy with the match, not matter, if she liked the idea or not he didn't care. It wasn't uncommon that the wife didn't like her husband, in their customs, besides all she would be to him was a simple housewife and mother. That would be her duty after all.

            Abdul was very happy with this match, but now it was time for Quatre to meet his future wife. So he called Mohammad and asked him to bring his daughter into the study. Abdul had to try hard to conceal the extent of his happiness; he just knew that Quatre would love Samira on sight.

            Quatre sat waiting patiently, the sooner that happens the sooner he could get back to business. But he wasn't prepared for what he just was about to see. Quatre almost bolted up from his seat for he was struck by something so profound, so unbelievable, and who happened to be standing at the entrance of his study…his future wife.

**~TO BE CONTINUED~**

**Note:**So what do you guys think? Please let me know and write me a review. Thanks! May your nights be full of Arabian Pleasure.  ^_~

  


	4. At First Glance

**Arabian Pleasure:**

**By: Melfina61**

**Disclaimer:**check out the lyrics chapter and the prologue.

**A/N:**Hey everyone Chapter 2 now up. Just need some more reviews people. I'd like to know that what I'm writing is good or not good. So please review review review!

**~Chapter 2~**

            She was ready to face the obstacle that awaited her in the study; she put on her cool and composed face to show her fearless nature. She was ready to face her future husband. BUT! She was NOT ready for the man sitting before her. She was not ready to see those piercing blue eyes that seemed to gaze into her very soul, or his slicked back golden hair, or his lips, set in a straight and even line, very composed and professional. He was indeed handsome, very handsome in that black tailored suite, with his straight posture that spoke of wisdom and age. Yes, he was older, quite older than she was and that gave him a more dominate and powerful appearance nonetheless. Samira began to feel things that she never felt before, nor did she really want to feel. This was the man she was forced to marry, how could she feel anything for this man, she really couldn't or could she? Samira hid her confused thoughts, resumed her cool composure, and looked straight into the eyes of her future husband.

* * *

  


She's beautiful! Quatre thought. Standing there next to Mohammad, Samira raised her eyes slowly and gazed into his. Quatre had trouble breathing. He couldn't think nor pin point what she was doing to make him feel this way. She was covered in a yellow robe and a matching veil that covered her hair, and the only thing visible to him was her face, a face that beamed with perfection. Not only did she have those haunting brown eyes which seemed huge and oh so innocent, she had beautifully shaped cheekbones, a nose that wasn't to small nor too big that and her lips – her red, vibrant and pouted lips was calling to him, wanting to be kissed. Her entire being screamed with innocence, which aroused Quatre even more.

**I dream of rain I dream of gardens in the desert sand I wake in pain 

I dream of love as time runs through my hands**

            Groaning inwardly, Quatre had to put himself together, after all, she was only a mere girl, his future wife. He had to remember what she should mean to him, a housewife and mother, that's it, that's all. With his mind made up he masked whatever emotion this girl was causing him and gazed back into those dark haunting eyes.

* * *

  


            Yes, this was a good match indeed, Abdul thought. Quatre will treat his beautiful habiba well and she will treat him well. Oh Allah has been good to him, to grant his wish. Now he won't have to worry about the well being of his daughter's future. After giving a prayer on thanksgiving to the all might Allah, he proceeded to introduce his daughter,

            "Quatre, this is my daughter Samira, your future wife. Samira come closer and meet Quatre." Samira obeyed her father and walked closer to them. Quatre out of good manners, rose and slightly bowed to Samira. Standing in front of Samira with his bowed form, Quatre was clearly taller by a good few inches.

            "Hello, Samira is it? I pray for happiness and fulfillment in our marriage to come." Strange, Quatre thought, how convincing he sounded even to his own ears.

            "Well," Abdul interrupted, "I leave you two to discuss amongst yourselves." Abdul left them both standing face to face. The room seemed to have gotten smaller and smaller to Samira, after all Quatre seemed to dominate the entire room with his cool stare. He smiled at her, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Quatre sat down and encouraged Samira to sit as well.

            "Sit Samira, and tell me about yourself, other than what your father as told me already."  

            "What has he told you?" Samira replied quietly. She seemed to be avoiding eye-contact with him, which to Quatre was all the better, the more he didn't have to see those haunting eyes the cooler he felt. Which was a good thing.

            "Oh, just what kind of a wife you'd make, how well behaved you are and…obedient."

            "What else is there that you need to know then? It seems my father told you all that is needed. Am I wrong?"

            "Possibly not, I was just trying to make conversation, as it seems your father wants us to speak about something. What of your mother? Why isn't she here with you and your father?" Samira stiffened, not a good sign. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his and whispered,

            "My mother is dead. Anything else you would like to know?" Quatre stared speechless. He wasn't expecting such a reply and he wasn't expecting this overwhelming feeling to pull Samira into his arms and comfort her.

            "Well I hope everything is in order," Abdul announced as he entered the room, "You two got to know each other a little bit no? Good! I'm so glad. Thanks to Allah for such an arrangement. Unfortunately, it is time for us to go, but by this time next week you will be together again and very married." Mohammad guided Samira and Abdul to the door as Quatre stood watching them as they left – watching her. Samira gazed back at her future husband and Quatre couldn't help but see the hidden fire – such innocence in those dark depths. Quatre gave a silent prayer, asking for strength, for he knew somehow that he won't be able to forget those enchanting eyes.

* * *

  


            And later on that night as Quatre laid asleep in bed, he knew he was right. Samira was in his dreams watching him with her haunting dark eyes, calling him to release that hidden fire.

**~TO BE CONTINUED~**

**A/N:**Hey so what did you think? Please let me know and review ok. It'll make me a lot happier. May your dreams be filled with Arabian Pleasure


	5. Desert Rose

Arabian Pleasure 

**By: Melfina61**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own G/W bla bla bla…it's said in the first few chapters….

**A/N: **Hey all I'm back….I've got some time on my hands now to finish this thing. If I don't finish it I'll never finish anything. Enjoy! Oh and please review! I need your feedback.

**Chapter 3**

            Days pass since Samira last saw Quatre, and it still sent shivers down her spine when she would think of him. Oh yes – she had to agree that he was indeed very handsome, and she had to give her father credit for choosing a good-looking man, other girls might not have been so lucky. Still lucky or not, she didn't want to marry this man – right?

            "Allah, tell me what I should do to get out of this, do I even want to get out of this marriage anymore?" Sighing, Samira stood in front of a full body mirror, set beside her bed. Is there any way she can make herself look ugly, less attractive? If Samira appeared less attractive to Quatre, maybe he wouldn't want to marry her. Unfortunately, Allah gave her, her mothers looks and in her time, she was considered to be the most beautiful woman in all of Arabia; according to her father. A curse, that's all she could think of when she looked at herself. Remembering those cold eyes – cold but beautiful and mysterious eyes, Samira pulse began to race. She had to admit to herself that she was attracted to Quatre, there's no doubt about it. Which wasn't a good thing because she was forced to battle with herself to keep hating the man, but it was getting increasingly harder the more she thought about him. She had to think of something and fast. But before Samira could get another thought, her father walked in,

            "Habiba? Oh my beautiful little princess. It makes me so happy that you will be married…"

            "Yes baba, it makes _you_ happy." Abdul looked at his daughter, puzzled by her reply,

            "And what do you mean by that remark?"

            "Oh just that it seems that only you are happy with this arrangement. I don't know if I can ever been happy with the man you chose for me." Stung a little by her own words, Samira wasn't too sure if that was true, but forget admitting that to her father.

            "But Samira, you saw for yourself, Quatre has a good home, a good life, he is a good man. I only want what's best for you. It makes me feel better knowing that he will give you a good life, since I won't be here forever."

            "Oh baba!" Samira hugged her father tightly, "Sure you'll be here forever, don't say such things. Besides if I get married, won't you be lonely without me?"

            "My little habiba, don't worry about me, I'll visit you, I promise. Anyway, now that all of that is out of the way, I can tell you what I wanted to tell you since I came into your room. Quatre will be visiting us today, so I want you to look your best. I know that you thought that you wouldn't see him again until the wedding, but Quatre is an unpredictable man, and I assume that he wants to see you again, and to see where you've lived for the past 19 years. Don't worry, I'm sure it will be all right. Now I must go and make some plans for entertainment." Abdul gave Samira one last hug before leaving her room and leaving a very shocked Samira.

            "Yes, that's right. You get those four invitations out immediately, I don't want it to get to them any day later understand? – Good, don't disappoint me." Setting down his cell phone, Quatre hoped that those invitations would get to Herro, Duo, Wufei and Trowa in time. He at least wanted to see some friendly faces when he got married. Sighing, Quatre ordered the driver to turn left, getting closer to _her _home – Samira's home – his future wife. The more he thought about this Arabian beauty, flashes of his dreams of her would come crashing down to his senses…

I dream of fire Those dreams are tied to a horse that would never tire And in the flames 

**Her shadow play in the shape of a man's desire**

            Hitting the leather seat of the limo, Quatre tired to get rid of those thought. Damnit! This wasn't fair! All those dreams and all those thoughts are betraying the very memory of Dorothy. Quatre face darkened, Samira will never replace Dorothy. He may desire her, what man would deny the desire they would feel by Samira's beauty – her innocence. Nevertheless, that didn't mean that Quatre would ever want her, love her the way he loved his Dorothy.

            The limo drew closer to her house and Quatre took in the surroundings. Her home was small but elegant, surrounded by flowered, wild and colourful flowers, mostly red, as red as Samira's lips – Damnit! Quatre told the driver to stop, and got out, putting on his sunglasses as the sun embraced him. Mohammad also got out as well, observing Quatre as he had been the entire drive. 'What was in that head of his' Mohammad thought. He stood by his childhood friend and decided that Quatre would tell him what's bothering him in good time.

            Having such a powerful demeanour, Quatre was able to attract a lot of attention from various people walking along. Not really paying any attention, Quatre moved to the front door and knocked. Soon after a pretty maidservant opened the door and ushered them into the lounge, where music was playing and dancers dancing. Everyone in the household was there, enjoying the entertainment, everyone except for Samira, Quatre noted. Abdul was there, however, he embraced Quatre and kissed him on both cheeks,

            "Asalam Walikum, I hope your journey here wasn't too troublesome. Look, I have brought some entertainment to lighten your spirits as well as all of ours. It has been a while since we had a celebration, and what a celebration this is, my daughter getting married to you fine gentleman. Ha ha, this is a happy day! Come sit and enjoy. Samira will be down shortly." They all sat and watched the entertainment. Mohammad was enjoying himself, as a very curvy dancer was dancing right in front of him. As Mohammad continued to laugh and clap to the music, Quatre started to feel a little at ease. His old self came back for those few moments – laughing and enjoying the fun too. But those moments were as easily gone as they had appeared. As Quatre looked towards the entrance, Samira appeared, looking around the room for her father. Their gazes met finally, and Quatre could feel the familiar pull, that magnetic feeling as he looked into her dark eyes. She stood dressed in red. She was wearing light pants that flowed along her legs with a sheer material wrapped around her waist, her top was long sleeved, and boat necked, showing a little bit of her shoulders and her veil was loosely put around her head, revealing her dark hair. She looked like the roses just outside her home, Quatre thought – a dessert rose.

            Her heart was racing, leaping and turning. Quatre was here, looking at her with those eyes that seemed to know what she was thinking. What is this feeling? Samira certainly never felt this feeling before. Well whatever it is, it had to stop. After all she was marrying a man with cold and powerful demeanour. Samira absolutely did not want to start to feel for a man who was void of any feelings, especially feelings towards her. Samira took one deep breath and walked to her father,

            "Ah Samira, good you're here. Just in time too. Quatre and Mohammad have arrived as you can see." Abdul guided her to where Quatre and Mohammad were sitting. Both stood to greet Samira, she returned the formality and sat next to her father, watching the dancers in the middle of the sitting room.

            Samira was thankful that Quatre eventually left the room – seemed he needed to make a phone call. She began to relax and enjoy the music. She stood as dancer swayed towards her, encouraging her to dance along. Samira began to sway her hands to the music, but soon enough her hips followed. She was dancing along with the dancers, however, a bit more modest, as a respectable girl in public. Even so, Samira danced beautifully, swaying her hips back and forth, using her veil to express a teasing mood. Samira was having fun for the first time since she found out about her arranged marriage. She was relaxing and enjoying herself, but completely clueless of the fact that Quatre had returned and was standing near the entrance, watching….

            She was dancing, right there before him, and Quatre couldn't keep his eyes off her even if his life depended on it. The way she was moving her hips, hiding half of her face, was sending him a secret promise – but what? In those few moments, Quatre saw a fire hidden deep within her, burning alive and free to the beat of the music. Once again, her beauty pulled him in a deep arousal that he couldn't control. 'She has me under a spell' Quatre thought. He was feeling such an intense desire for her at the moment of her dancing heat, he was beginning to think that he hadn't felt this way about anyone – not even – NO! He couldn't think that, he wouldn't allow himself to even doubt his love for his dead wife. As if Samira heard his denial, she gazed at him and froze. Samira realized, for the first time that he had been watching her. She quickly stopped her dance and sat next to her father.

            "Abdul," Quatre called, after having to take a few deeps breaths, "I would like to take your daughter shopping. I would like to buy her a few things, early wedding gifts if you will. She is entitled to buy whatever it is that she wants to buy."

            "That's a wonderful idea. Samira go on with Quatre, what a nice idea." All Samira could do was nod and follow Quatre and Mohammad out to the limo.

            The drive was very tense and stressful. Samira could feel Quatre's gaze and it was making her uneasy. Poor Mohammad was trying to make friendly conversation, which was sorely failing.

            "So, Samira, you like to dance, is there anything else that interests you?" Samira felt bad for Mohammad, he was trying to hard to be nice and she was just sitting there like a silent mute. Samira turned, smiled gently and replied,

            "I like to read, and I like to sing. My mother would always sing to me. She had a beautiful voice. I just wish I have half the voice she had."

            "Oh well I'm sure you do. You're just going to have to sing for me ok?" Mohammad replied, smiling. The limo stopped and Quatre turned to the others,

            "We're here. Come Samira. This shop had beautiful things, which I'm sure you'll like." Quatre guided them into the shop and Samira had to agree with him, there were many beautiful things – earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, veils, dresses, and all sorts of other things. She couldn't decide what she wanted. She looked over at Quatre and watched him looking at various jewels. She shivered at the thought of him buying her these grand things in the shop. She didn't want him to buy her anything. She didn't want to feel like she owed him anything. Quatre is the man she is arranged to marry. She didn't want anything to make her look at him differently. However, she had to admit, it was getting harder and harder the more she thought about him, the more she spoke to him, even with his cold disposition, Quatre posses a quality that Samira could not avoid. She didn't know what it was yet, but she knew that if he was ever willing to show her, she would fall for him.

            "Samira, do you like anything in this shop?" She flinched, Samira didn't realize how long she was standing staring at Quatre.

            "Yes uh there are many beautiful things but I don't want you to buy me anything. Please take me home now."

            "I'm sorry Samira, but I cannot do that. I promised your father that I would buy you a gift and that is my intention. I will not have you going home empty handed." Quatre voice was clipped and demanding.

            "I don't want anything," Samira whispered, "What I want is not on these shelves, tables or racks." Quatre stared at her for what seemed like an eternity.

            "Look, I know you're not too happy with this match, believe me, I wasn't too keen on the idea either, but I took it as my duty as should you. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt me that what you want is out of this marriage. It doesn't hurt me knowing that you don't feel anything for me. You see, I don't care for you either, it's mere responsibility, an obligation. And as part of my obligation I want for you to pick something out so I can buy it and we will be on out way and not see each other until the wedding." Samira couldn't help but wince. Quatre sounded so cold and heartless and those words hurt. She turned around walked around the shop. Samira could feel Quatre's gaze and it took all the will power she had to not turn and look back at him.

            "You know, you didn't have to be so harsh to her. She was offended I'm sure, maybe even hurt." Mohammad suggested.

            "Mohammad, it's what she wanted to hear and I was more than happy to remind her of that information. If she's hurt by what I said then it's not my fault, it just shows weakness and I will not be subjected to weakness like Samira's." He said those words, and he meant those words but he just couldn't believe those words as the image of her hurt, her sad dark eyes played across his mind. 'She doesn't care for me and I don't for her so anything I say shouldn't hurt her or make me feel guilty' Quatre thought. However, he wasn't so sure anymore.

            About a half an hour of looking around, Samira close a book form the back self – "Arabian Nights". She always loved that story. Both her mother and father would tell it to her every night, then it was just her father. She always wanted to get the book and read it, even read it to her children one day. She gave the book to Quatre, whom with raised eyebrows, questioned her choice. He took the book from her and bought it, not saying one word to her. After the purchase was made Quatre, Samira and Mohammad headed back to the limo. The drive home was done purely in silence, even Mohammad ceased to make any sort of conversation and as soon as the limo stopped, Samira got out and walked as quickly as she could to the front door. Just then, her father opened the door,

            "I hope you have fun habiba. Quatre," Abdul called as Quatre stepped out of the limo, "Thank you for taking her out. Come in and lets talk some more."

            "Thank you Abdul but I'm afraid I have to decline, I have some business to attend to. I'm sure you understand. I will see you on the day of the wedding." Quatre gazed at Samira and smiled – which didn't quit reach his eyes, "Samira, I'm impatiently waiting for the day that you will be my wife, until then good day my desert rose." Quatre got into the limo and soon Samira house was but a speck in the horizon and all he could see, was a picture of Samira dancing before him, in that red attire, her body moving, craving to be touched – Allah! Quatre already knew what would be haunting his dreams that night and every night to come.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Note: **Well what do you all think? Good things I hope. And I want to make a shout out to my one faithful fan who's been bugging me to no end to finish the damn story. She's been my inspiration to finish and I have to. If I don't how the heck and I ever gonna become a good writer? Well I'll leave you all with these words of wisdom: Come forth and dance with the passion of Arabian Pleasure.


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